


Impediment

by Midnightsoligt



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Character, Disability, Disabled Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 22:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10397352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightsoligt/pseuds/Midnightsoligt
Summary: You never know what the world is like without something until you live without it. Sound, unfortunately, holds a rather large place in society.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if the spacing is weird, I've tried to fix it but AO3 won't let me space it properly :/

Chip had first seen the red mech patrolling the north perimeters of the Ark, a Lamborghini alt mode that had both himself and Spike watching him whiz by in a whistle of awe.

He didn’t know much about him, only that his name was Sideswipe, and he was Sunstreaker’s twin.

He had heard the frontliner’s name around the Ark, only in reference to his exceedingly annoying habit of ignoring everyone around him. It only escalated when Sunstreaker was around to hear a particularly snide comment from Gears, the minibot earning himself a one way beating to the med bay for the effort.

Sunstreaker had sent him tumbling in with a missing arm and a broken nasal ridge.

Sparkplug had leaned over his and Spikes shoulder, disapproval practically oozing from his disposition as he quietly warned the two of them to keep away from the short-tempered front line soldier.

But, to his ever growing impatience to meet and interact with as many mechs as he could on the Ark, he still hadn’t had any interaction with Sideswipe.

He hardly ever saw the mech around base, whether it was because he just blended in well or went out of his way to be avoided by everyone. Similar to Sunstreaker, just less aggressive.

He presumed the two were fraternal, if the different helms and colours were anything to go by. But when the two came storming out the Ark, ready for a battle, faceplates twisted into matching scowls, he realized with as slight flicker of amazement, that they both had identical faces. Right down to the curve of their nasal ridge and the ample of their lips and the high ‘cheekbones’ that structured their face plating magnificently.

He had stopped assuming things about the interesting race of Cybertronians after that, just like how he initially believed their voices to be lifeless, robotic tones. He was proved wrong when he’d first been introduced to Optimus Prime, who had such a unique, deep rumble to his baritone vocaliser, he’d been shocked by the significant difference to the cheesy movie version he’d been expecting.

Then all the other mechs had introduced themselves, each with their own unique voice.  
He had heard Sunstreaker deep growl and was surprised at the.. human-ness of it all. Then of course, he became accustomed to Sunstreaker’s bragging and grouching enough to know the sound of the yellow twin’s voice. But not once had he heard Sideswipe utter a word. Not even an encouragement on the battlefield, or a way cry in the midst of battle.

It was odd.

But maybe he was just quiet like Prowl, or a wallflower like Skids.

And as the months went by, and Chip’s knowledge of Sideswipe remained minute and unsatisfyingly empty, he came to crave any bit of information he could learn about the mech.

Even if it met shifting as best he could in his wheel chair and basking in the warm sun as he watched Sideswipe’s alt mode rumble in the distance.

He was on patrol with Bluestreak, and each time they came around the bend to whoosh straight by him, he could hear the erratic chatter of the Paraxian’s ramblings, coming out of his speakers as if he were so caught up in whatever mindless words he’d been blathering about, he’d forgotten about private comm units.

It made him laugh softly, cherishing the sound in the wind as he closed his eyes and listened closely while he waited for them to drive by once more.

Not once did Sideswipe utter a reply, and not once did Chip hear the front liners voice mix with the whistling wind and Bluestreak’s whirlwind of chatter.

Perhaps Sideswipe had the sense to answer internally.

() () () () () () ()

“What do you think of him?” He had asked Spike one day, when the hot air of summer had been whisked away by the chill of autumn and they were both huddled in the main entrance hall to the Ark, watching the Autobots experience the glorious feeling of jumping and stepping on crunchy leaves.

  
”Think of who?” Spike answered distantly, attention on Bumblebee as he watched Jazz dump a particular large wad of leaves over his head.

  
They both watched the remnants flutter to the ground, some flying into the breeze as Bumblebee waved his hand, a futile attempt to brush them from his armour.

  
“Sideswipe.”

Spike pursed his lips, and Chip watched his brown eyes scan the grounds for the familiar red front liner.

  
“He’s by the hill.” Chip guided.

He didn’t bother to follow Spikes gaze, instead shoving his hands further into his mittens as the cold air stung at his exposed wrists.

  
“I dunno,” He said after a while, “I’ve never talked to him. Have you?”

Chip shook his head, taking some delight in watching Spikes red nose twitch as he sniffed up a particularly gross string of snot.

  
Chip laughed at him and the grottiness of it, and Spike shoved his shoulder as he told him to shut up.

  
He forgot about Sideswipe in that moment, and for the next couple of weeks that followed.

  
But, just like the man,( or boy) he was, his mind was a whirlwind of activity, and he had a memory better than anything photographic and a curiosity far larger than any explorer.

  
His inquisitiveness, however, did not go unnoticed, and Chip found himself under the glare of Sunstreaker more often than not when the yellow bot spotted him staring at Sideswipe in (attempted) abated curiosity.

  
He tried to put a peg in it, he really did, especially at the threat of a large, murderous, giant alien robot that could squish him in heartbeat. But he had high hopes of scientific endeavours in his future, and where a better place to start than with a giant, metal, extra-terrestrial.

  
So, he continued to watch, hopefully with much more inconspicuousness than before.

  
The rare times he did see Sideswipe in public, it was to twitching digits and a nervous aura around him that almost had him pitying the front liner. But he hated pity, and did his best not to spread the annoying trait around like fairy dust.

  
Perhaps Sideswipe had suffered from the mental repercussions of a harsh war, just like humans did.

  
_‘Of course he would,_ He mused straight after, _They all would._

  
If Spikes journal was anything to go by, anyway. The first sentence is a mixture of bewilderment and surprise as he practically exclaimed into the paper that these sentient beings have emotions as strong as you or me, and to Chip, it just made them all the more interesting.

 

() () () () () () () () ()

  
Carly thought Chip’s conceptualization of Sideswipe was interesting, and Spike thought he was just being nosy.

  
Chip thought this ironic, considering Spike always had a silent demand of being present to whatever it was the Autobots were doing, dangerous or not. Surprisingly, the Autobots didn’t seem to care that the humans playing a part of their missions were anything but useful.

  
Except for Prowl, of course. That bot held stiff doorwings and a glare so disapproving it almost burned worse through than his own mothers. His sharp optics kept a close eye on them whenever they tagged along, with good reason, too.

  
Chip supposed he held the right, being the bearer of a battle computer that spouted out statistics and outcomes faster than Chip could ever dream of.

  
“Why don’t you just ask him?”

Carly voice was kind in his ear, but it startled him all the same.

Spike chuckled, “He’s off in his own world again.”

  
Chip ignored him, “Ask who?”

Carly rolled her eyes, “Sideswipe, of course.”

“Ask him what?”

“You know, whatever’s been rolling around in that big ol’ brain of yours for the last, what, month?”

“Try months,” Spike emphasised.

Chip shrugged, he wasn’t going to apologise for his curiosity, not after Spike had told him about his embarrassing fangirling moment over Mirage’s cloaking device.

  
”Don’t you find it strange, though?”

“What?”

“That he’s just never around! Never speaks, no one really mentions him, I mean, aren’t you at least a tiny bit curious?”

  
They weren’t.

Carly shook her head, “He’s probably just shy, I mean even giant alien robots have their limits, and maybe interacting with humans is one of his.”

It sounded oddly logical, and a fact he’d never considered.

  
Humans weren’t generally repulsive, or at least, not in the way that Cybertronians viewed them.

  
Sure, the bigots and ableist arseholes could go jump off the nearest cliff, but didn’t Cybertron have mechs like that too?

Wasn’t it the reasoning behind the intense war effort and Megatron’s hatred of the senate?

  
He shrugged, not nearly satisfied with his own or Carly’s answer, but played it off as if he was.

  
It worked, and the two went back to chatting, Bumblebee eventually ambling over to join them.

  
Chip’s thoughts were still jumbled, a new curve for him, and as he thought about it, Carly’s proposition and his own intense thirst for answers, made him decide that, yes, maybe he would go ask him.

  
() () () () () ()

It wasn’t as simple as he thought.

  
He was comfortable with people, good at articulate and clear communication, but obviously, there had once been a time when he hadn’t, and he eventually grew to be comfortable in his own skin, learning that a wheelchair was no impediment, especially with a mind like his own, and moved forward.

  
Perhaps that had been the thought that made it click, something twisting in his brain as his own mind rolled an answer straight into his head.

  
After searching for a while, much longer than he’d like to have admitted, but the fear of asking Sunstreaker or any other bot had won out against impatience, and he settled on searching by himself.  
How hard could it be to find a bright, cherry red robot?

Harder than he’d thought. Chip didn’t know the location of Sideswipe’s quarters or his known hang-out locations, if he even had any, so he’d spent the majority of his time ambling throughout the halls of the Ark on the lookout for the front liner.

  
Chip had brushed past Suntreaker, and was surprised to find Sideswipe nowhere in sight. More often than not, the two were spotted together, drawn close and twitching their heads in what Chip had learnt was their own, much more special, form of internal conversation.

  
A bond, a spilt spark bond, which Ratchet had informed him was much stronger than any bond between a Conjunx Endura, was capable of many attributes that an ordinary bond had no such privy to, such as feeling each other’s emotions, almost in sync with their other half’s thoughts, and sharing conversations across their very spark.

Chip frowned, and cast a glance back at the yellow twin, instead heading in the direction Sunstreaker had came from, and he kept on trotting until he ended up at the Ark entrance, and to his surprise, spotted Sideswipe standing not far from where his own wheels had brought him.

  
Sideswipe had his back to him, frame standing just outside the entrance tunnel. His helm was hung low, and Chip belatedly realized that he was watching his pedes shuffling around in the leaves.  
He’d stomp down, and even from his way away, Chip could hear the satisfying crunch of the leaves as they made contact with the underside of a heavy metal foot.

  
Sideswipe shuffled his pedes around some more, kicking piles of leaves into the air, only drawing his head up to watch them scatter in the wind, before it was hanging low once more as his feet scuffed and kicked at the leaves and dirt.

  
Chip rolled forward at the same time Sideswipe gave a particularly hard, almost anger filled, kick to the ground, and the boy lurched backwards, a small yelp escaping his throat as he gripped the wheels of his wheelchair tightly.

  
He expected Sideswipe to whirl around, to be furious at the interruption of his private time, for sneaking up on him, for _spying_ on him.

  
But he did no such thing, and his head still hung low, pedes returning to the ground in a soft shuffle of leaves once more, offering no response or acknowledgment to the pink nosed boy behind him.

  
Chip’s eyes scrunched. He had to have heard him, right?

  
Every human had learnt by now that Cybertronians audials were far more fine-tuned than that of a humans hearing, as Carly and Spike had learned the hard way.

  
He wheeled forward, expecting the crunch of a few blown in leaves under his wheels to catch the attention of Sideswipe, but it didn’t.

  
The front liner didn’t move, and Chip inched closer once more.

  
He swallowed, noticing the dryness in his throat as the nervousness he felt before came flooding back in.

  
Why was he so nervous?

  
What was the big deal?

  
“Sideswipe?”

  
His voice came out hoarse and slightly wobbly from his chattering teeth as the cold nipped at his unprotected arms.

  
What a time to forget a jumper.

His pushed at his wheels harder this time, and he rolled forward until he was so close to Sideswipe that he had to crane his neck way back to see up the entire length of the front liner, his helm becoming a shadow in the setting sun.

  
The familiar buzz of a proximity sensors bursting out to mingle with the chilly air Chip was inhabiting tingled at his skin as Sideswipe finally whirled around, EM field projecting such a heavy panic it almost had him flinching.

  
His optics bleached to white, and Chip could hear the sounds of weapons in his subspace whirring to life before they could even reach the robots servos.

  
Chip threw up his hands, screeching a feeble ‘it’s only me!’ as the front liner stared down at him in a mix of surprise and frustration.

  
There was a heavy silence, Sideswipes vents heaving harshly, before they evened out, a deep, irritated ex-vent of hot air washing over the back of Chip’s neck.

  
“Uh, sorry.” He began, slowly lowering his arms back down when the front liner didn’t bother to move, wallowing in the very uncomfortable silence that had drawn out between them.

  
Sideswipe didn’t reply, and his optics scrunched in a funny squint as Chip heard the tell-tale sound of optical lenses zooming in to get a better look at the tiny human so far away from their range of vision.

  
“I wanted to ask you something, if that’s alright with you?”

  
Sideswipes optic ridged scrunched once more, this time in frustration, and he scowled, taking a step away from Chip as he turned away once more.

“Hey, wait, Sideswipe!”

  
He went ignored once more, Sideswipe only offering a glance down at him as he strode by him and back into the warmth of the Ark.

  
Chip let his mouth fall open, Sideswipe name falling flat to cold air as he disappeared inside. The annoyance and sourness he felt at the familiar feeling of dismissal gnawed at his nerves, remembering back to when teachers and important academic figures dismissed him almost instantly when they saw his wheelchair, already automatically filing him away as ‘useless’

  
It made his blood boil.

  
He rolled his wheel chair back and forth. Despite the rude interaction, his curiosity was in no way abated.

  
Chip knew it was something much more than blatant ignoring, it had to be.

  
Sideswipe was wallowing, a horrible depressed feeling of uselessness and nostalgia and missing something you can never have back.

  
He knew the feeling.


End file.
